Colds Days are for Books
by lannistersdebt
Summary: Madam Pince spends her days during the war as best she can: with her books and a somewhat surprising companion. Written for semi-finals for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.


It was cold by the window, but she didn't move away. Instead, she pulled her robes more tightly around her. Below the table, her hands were balled up in her sleeves.

It was worse outside. She hadn't checked the temperature in a few hours, but she had kept tabs on how much snow had fallen. Her last check had been half an hour ago, and they were up to nearly three feet. The wind was howling, audible from nearly any point in the castle. One would have to be deaf in order not to hear it.

She hadn't seen such a snowstorm in years. It was rare to not see a couple people outside, even if in current days that meant it was a Death Eater, but now there was not a soul to be seen. Most the classes, even the ones inside the castle, had been cancelled. The majority of the students – the wise ones – were holed up in the dormitories. The rest were…well, she didn't honestly know what they were doing. The only things the weather was good for were reading, drinking, sleeping, and talking – usually in that order – and, she supposed, pretending that life was different than it really was.

 _Pretending_. That was the key word; the word that sounded like an omen.

"Irma." The soft voice made her look away from the window and pull away from her thoughts. "Your tea."

"Lovely weather out there." She reached up to take it, glad for the heat from the cup. Students were prohibited from bringing food or drinks into the library and were used to her chasing them out if she caught them. Professors followed the rules as well – and so did she. But these afternoons with Severus were the exception to her rules. He was the only one she trusted in her domain, for she felt that he was the only one who felt the same way about books as she did. Or…almost the same way.

"Mhm." He settled down in his chair across from her and she noticed – not for the first time – how tired he looked. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was drawn. It was no wonder; the man hardly slept anymore. She'd noticed that he was barely eating either. "It's getting worse."

She took a sip of her drink, pleased to notice that he had gotten just the right amount of milk this time. "I feel as though you're speaking of more than just the weather, Severus."

"Perhaps." He looked toward the window himself, unwilling to meet her gaze. "Every day that goes by that the Dark Lord does not find Potter makes him angrier. He _will_ get him eventually, and I fear what will happen. He will be pleased to have him, but his wrath from being denied for so long…"

"Perhaps things will work out for the better." It was dangerous to speak like that around Hogwarts these days; outside of the library, she wouldn't dare. A couple of months ago, she especially wouldn't have dared to speak like that to the headmaster. He could be formidable, but years of being on his good side had their advantages. Minerva still complained because they argued constantly, but Irma had learned to just go along with what Severus said. He left her books alone that way, and he kept the Carrows out of her library. (She still wondered if they could actually read; they didn't seem to be able to follow the textbooks very well.)

"Perhaps. It's hard to say." Even his voice was weary. "I need something stronger than tea."

With a flourish, she pulled a flask from her robes and offered it to him.

"What's this?"

"Your favorite." She laughed softly. "Firewhiskey."

"Ah." He unscrewed the lid and poured a generous amount into his cup before taking a sip. "Perfect."

He offered it back to her, still open, and she added a little to her own drink. It would warm her up better than the alcohol for sure.

They were quiet for a time then, each drinking their spiked tea. It was only when they were finished that Irma cleared her throat, and Severus turned away from the window with a brow raised. "Yes, Irma?"

"I was just curious as to whether or not you finished the book I recommended to you last week or not." She was anxious for someone to discuss it with. It was hard to find anyone else who would read for pleasure, and she knew it was one of the only things that worked for him. "I was debating opening a fiction section in here. I think that it might…help."

"I haven't finished it quite yet. I think I've got another hundred pages left." The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "But I can tell you that I don't think that either of the wizards make for good spies."

"No, I don't guess that they do."

They fell into relaxed silence again, moving toward shelves. There were plenty of books that needed to be returned to their places and shelves that needed to be organized. It was typically just the librarian's job to do that, but she didn't mind the help. The sound of another person moving about the various sections, sections they knew as well as she did, was as relaxing as the alcohol working in her system. Severus spent nearly as much time in the library as she did – namely after hours, when it was closed to students – so she didn't have to tell him how to do anything.

After an hour of the work, they were finished, and Severus took his leave. She was sad to see him go, as she always was. Minerva and everyone else could think and say whatever they wanted about him but it wouldn't change her opinions. It was nice to have the company of someone who was rejected just as much as she was.

Left alone again, Irma sank back into the chair by the window. It seemed like she had an ache in every joint she possessed.

She couldn't wait for this war to end.

* * *

 _ **a/n;**_

This was written for semi-finals for the Harry Potter Fanfiction Quidditch League Competition.  
I write for the Montrose Magpies as Beater 1.  
Our round topic was support staff. The Magpies were assigned Madam Pince.  
Beater 1 was assigned "slice of life" situation.  
My prompts were:  
\- 3 (word); ache  
\- 13 (word); omen


End file.
